


Make A Supersonic Man Out Of You

by Tomatosoupful



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale loves Crowley, Crowley and Aziraphale do the impossible, Crowley invented twerking alright, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Dancing, Fusion, Gender Neutral, M/M, Pining, Queen music, Swearing, Two Idiots Make One Giant Idiot, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatosoupful/pseuds/Tomatosoupful
Summary: "Both they and their reflection cautiously touched their hair. Their face. It was a stranger yet looked so familiar. An answer finally came to them, yet it still didn’t make sense. It wasn’t possible, this didn’t happen, it couldn’t.“Aziraphale – Crowley!” they exclaimed, then slammed their hands over their mouth in shock.A fusion. They were a fusion. Of a demon and an angel."*** or ***Now that the Armageddon business was finally sorted, Crowley was ready to give this romance thing a go. If only Aziraphale would go along with it, if only their romantic dance hadn't been interrupted by an impossibility from the Almighty Herself.Fusion Concept based off Steven Universe. Not actual SU crossover.





	1. Part 1

After the apocalypse was successfully thwarted, the meetups between Crowley and Aziraphale went from convenient coincidences to weekly occurrences. Which was perfectly fine for the both of them; the world had entered a new stage of _not_ ending and so it made sense to take advantage of this freedom. What else were they supposed to do now that Heaven and Hell weren’t breathing down their necks with hefty demands?

Luckily for Crowley, there were hundreds of things he would rather do than Hell’s bidding. He had _ideas_. Ideas that had been in development for a good 6000 years, imagined and then improved after watching humans stumble and struggle with relationships across history. There had been plenty of practise too. Humans whose knees would buckle when Crowley offered them even the slightest bit of attention, and those desperate for just one night of fun and love. All done under the name of temptation but with only one end goal in mind. Perfecting the art of romance for an angel who couldn’t a spot a compliment even it was sent to his address with a bow tied on top.

Tragic really.

But it had been 6000 years of patiently growing the bond between himself and Aziraphale so giving up at this point would be embarrassing. It would also leave him downright miserable. So, he would rather _not_ admit defeat and instead organise every opportunity he had to convince Aziraphale that yes, there is a perfectly handsome charming demon _right here_ and it sure would be a shame to ignore him. They had the freedom to start something together so _what are you waiting for?!_

When Crowley arrived at the bookshop holding a bottle of red, he wasn’t surprised to see the angel at his desk, dutifully reading a book. Yes, it sure would be a shame if a standard book was more appreciated than Crowley for company. Dismissing that annoyingly depressing thought out of his mind (there were a lot of those recently), he strolled inside and made his presence known. It was a sad state to be in when being greeted by Aziraphale instead of the angel remaining focused on his book was a cause for celebration.

But here he was. Getting ridiculously drunk sounded like the most appropriate thing to do.

“Oh, you got my favourite,” Aziraphale said gratefully, accepting the bottle of red.

“Yeah, it was the first one on the shelf,” Crowley drawled out as though he hadn’t searched through multiple bottle shops trying to find the right brand. 

Aziraphale flashed him a smile as he searched for two glasses. The bookshop was closed an hour early, much to the irritation of an old man who was hoping to buy a book on French poetry from the 18th century. For the past three days Crowley had been hiding the book in his apartment; Aziraphale unwilling to depart from it. (1) He _could_ have returned it today but there was nothing wrong with keeping it so Aziraphale found another reason to visit. The more visits the better, and if everything went the way Crowley planned this evening, then further visits were guaranteed.

It never took long for them to lose track of the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed. Not only were they not interested but it would also be a bother to think about it among their lengthy and engaging discussions. (2) Outside, streetlights glowed, and the sounds of Soho’s nightlife occasionally drifted into the bookshop. All in all, in Crowley’s opinion, everything was going reasonably well so far. There had been no major fuck ups yet. The wine he spilt earlier hadn’t landed on any books so Aziraphale was practically radiating with happiness.

Right. It was Crowley’s time to shine.

He went to stand up only to slouch back into the chair, his head swimming and vision blurry. Okay, maybe he needed to drain half of the alcohol out of his system first…_now_ he was ready. While Aziraphale rambled about the disastrous fashion era that was the 70s, Crowley clicked his fingers and brought into existence a vinyl he had stolen from a music store. Aziraphale noticed and there was a familiar frown on his face. It was the same frown he wore whenever he was waiting for Crowley to make a mess of things. (3)

“Don’t get your wings in a twist,” Crowley said, positioning the vinyl on the record player. “Bit of Queen never hurt anyone.”

Aziraphale shifted on his chair, still wearing his frown. “You bought a Queen vinyl? Whatever for?” as if the band wasn’t played enough in the Bentley, just the way Crowley liked it.

“_You’re_ the one who refuses to keep up with the times, angel. This place could use a CD Player.”

There was a harrumph from the angel as Crowley began the song.

“_Tonight…I’m gonna have myself a real good time_.” That was the plan! Crowley turned to Aziraphale and gestured wildly at him. “Come on, get up. It’s started!”

Aziraphale spluttered. “W-what?”

Thanking the alcohol for the extra confidence boost, Crowley tried again with a more friendly encouraging invitation, “Don’t you like this song? _You _said it was your favourite back in – ah fuck, what was it? 1989! In 1989. I remember! Don’t pretend, I _remember_.”

“I knew I’d regret telling you,” Aziraphale mumbled. Freddie Mercury’s voice swelled as Crowley turned up the volume.

As if the song itself was powering him, Crowley said enthusiastically, “Get _up_ and have a dance already. You’re drunk enough for it.”

At that, Aziraphale ceased refilling his glass and stubbornly turned away from his drink.

“Oh don’t be like that, angel.”

“_Don’t. Stop. Me. Now…_” went the song.

“Angels don’t dance,” Aziraphale answered shortly.

“_You _do.”

“Only the gavotte.”

Crowley cringed and muttered, “_Yeeeah_. Don’t do that to poor Freddie.”

Aziraphale threw him a mild glare. Brushing past it with ease, Crowley said, “There are more dances out there than just the gavotte.”

“I am well aware.”

The last time they had discussed modern dancing, Aziraphale had learnt Crowley invented twerking and immediately abandoned him at the restaurant much to Crowley’s everlasting amusement. (4) 

“But one dance is enough for me,” Aziraphale stated with finality.

Crowley’s whole body seemed to deflate as he sighed with exaggeration. “You’re so difficult sometimes,” he grumbled. The song had picked up the pace and now Queen was rocking out to themselves with the angel and demon awkwardly still. This …wasn’t how it was meant to go. Thinking back to all the lessons on romance he’d picked up from humans, it was times like this when honesty was best advised. Just lay your soul out there.

Last time Crowley did that, his proposed trip to Alpha Centuri had been shot down like a lead balloon _but_ he wasn’t the type to give up. If he was, Eve never would have taken that fateful bite into the apple. With renewed vigour, Crowley removed his sunglasses with style and tossed them to his chair. His snake eyes meeting Aziraphale’s confused blue ones, Crowley said firmly, “What I was trying to say was …”

Taking a deep breath, he held out a hand and asked, “Dance with me?”

Aziraphale was frozen for a good moment. Enough of moment to have Crowley’s mind swearing frantically. Then flickers of emotions twitched across the angel’s face, his thoughts racing. Just as Crowley considered _praying_ to the Almighty for this to work, the mood of the evening brightened when Aziraphale got up and cautiously approached him. Delicately, Aziraphale’s hand met Crowley’s and it brought back memories of the dainty, small yet intimate gestures of the Georgian era. It may have been small, but it meant so much as Crowley closed his fingers around Aziraphale’s warm hand.

“_There’s no stopping me!_”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer to him, thrilled that he had gotten this far. Sure, his angel hadn’t expected the sudden movement, yelping out Crowley’s name in disproval, but he got over himself quickly all things considered. It was hard for Aziraphale to remain annoyed when he felt embarrassment so much stronger. There was the awkwardness that always crippled Aziraphale whenever he was shoved into uncomfortable and unusual situations. It _must_ be part of God’s so-called ineffable plan then that Aziraphale had Crowley here to show him how to have a good time.

“Come on angel, loosen up.”

“_Crowley_.”

“Aziraphale?” Crowley drew out the angel’s name obnoxiously, then twirled him around and caught the stupid bugger before he could trip and fall over his own feet.

“That was –!”

“– Fun, right?”

Queen agreed. “_Yeah I’m a rocket ship on my way to Mars._

_On a collision course._”

Aziraphale stared at him again, his guarded exterior gradually lessening. He pretended otherwise but he was always a sucker for Crowley’s charm. He couldn’t hold back a small smile, flushed cheeks and brightening eyes. The angel always lit up whenever he was the centre of Crowley’s attention. It was silly but sweet and Crowley fucking loved it.

‘Caught in a spider’s web’ sounded too predatory and therefore inappropriate to describe Aziraphale finally relenting and doing his best to dance with Crowley. More like, he was a bird that carefully pecked the seeds until finally hopping into the generous hand. There was still an edge of caution (5) but soon enough, as the Queen song played, the angel and demon danced to the best of their ability. Which wasn’t much between the two of them, but no one could claim them to be lacking in effort.

“_Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time_  
_I'm having a ball_  
_Don't stop me now_  
_If you wanna have a good time_.”

They danced and drank with the carefree nature of humans, shrugging off the apathetic professionalism of angels, and the grim boredom of demons. After all their time on earth, they had gotten quite the hang of it. It was just the romantic thing they had to get a crack on. Feeling the atmosphere, Crowley determined he was doing a bang-up job so far at wooing the angel. Now to go in for the killer. With the sneakiness of a snake, he tripped up Aziraphale but made sure to catch him before he could hit the floor.

Instead of the angel swooning, there was annoyance. “Why in the world did you do that?” Aziraphale asked, leaning into Crowley’s hold.

“Don’t know what you mean.”

Aziraphale shook his head, seeing through Crowley’s trick, but his disapproval quickly dissolved into laughter. If it was anyone else, Crowley would have grumbled at the mockery, but this was his angel and, well, seeing his angel happy was worth it. Unable to keep up his cool persona (6), Crowley laughed too. Their foreheads touched as they laughed.

It would be safe to say that this was the high point of a romantic occasion. This was when the individuals would bridge the gap with a kiss and begin something new and special. If the night had gone the way Crowley intended, that is exactly what would have happened. But alas, no. That wasn’t how God’s ineffable plan worked with Her best demon and worst angel. And so, it went more like this:

An intense light glowed between the two of them as they laughed. Neither of them noticed as it grew and grew, encompassing their bodies. Just as Crowley finally noticed though, he didn’t get the chance to comment. He lost hold on his consciousness, Aizraphale right beside him. They collapsed, Freddie Mercury’s voice coaxing them into a deep sleep.

The Almighty chuckled to Herself.

~o0o~

As soon as they regained consciousness, the impact of last night’s drinking hit them like a train.

Half of a swear word tumbled out of their mouth before it crumbled into a moan. Everything ached, especially their skull. They tried remembering the last time they had accidentally passed out before sobering up. The late 17th century sounded about right, when they had drunk heavily with the poor sods arrested and dumped in the land down south. No – wait – that can’t be right.

It was at the turn of the damn 14th century, it had _finally_ ended – what? When had they done – oh yes, they had done that! However, there was still that memory of the prisoners, shaken and anxious. They were so sure that had been the last – _never mind_.

Their arm felt heavy as they peeled it off the floor to rub their sore head. Blearily, they opened their eyes and met the bookshop’s ceiling. A feeling of safety overwhelmed them. Their hand started to shake and that was when they knew a bit of magic was absolutely needed so they didn’t crash and sleep again. With a snap, their headache lifted, the nausea dissolved away and the heaviness in their body was gone.

_Ahhhh_ so much better.

Just as they sat up with the energy of a morning person, they wondered where their companion was; hopefully not waking up as sick as they had. Their companion … they frowned as two names clashed together. There was … they turned their head in all directions searching for this companion and found no one. That was when they noticed their clothes. _When_ had they worn black? – For 6000 years – no, that can’t be right – but it is – but it _isn’t_ – they never wore black pants _that_ formal though – what was wrong with them? 

Wait. They started developing a headache again. Too many thoughts were swarming and conflicting against each other. All they did know, was that something wasn’t …right. They managed to stand but immediately clutched a bookshelf, their balance just as confused as they were. Everything was slightly off tilt, both shorter and taller than usual. What the Hell – Heaven – _Something_?

Turning around, that’s when they saw it. Their reflection in a mirror, in the back of the bookshop, stared back at them. Keeping a hold on the shelf, they gradually approached the mirror, their jaw dropping further and further with every step. That …was that them? How did –? When did –? Something in them knew it wasn’t a product of their shapeshifting. It was something different.

Both they and their reflection cautiously touched their hair. Their face. It was a stranger yet looked so familiar. An answer finally came to them, yet it still didn’t make sense. It wasn’t possible, this didn’t happen, it couldn’t.

“Aziraphale – Crowley!” they exclaimed, then slammed their hands over their mouth in shock.

A fusion. They were a _fusion. _Of a demon and an angel.

_How?!_

Angels and demons _couldn’t_ fuse. It wasn’t even possible. Yet here they were, existing.

But _**how?!**_

The fusion of Aziraphale and Crowley couldn’t tear their eyes away from their reflection, finding all the ways in which they were both two people and one. Shorter than Crowley, taller than Aziraphale, rusty coloured curled hair that reached their shoulders (they felt the need to tie it back), their clothes struck a balance between casual and formal; all black too except for the pale tartan bowtie; The fusion winced as the contrasting clothes, yet another part of them also admired it. The combination fitted better than the fusion’s eyes. The left was a light blue and the other was hazel. The fusion supposed they should be grateful they didn’t need to hide any snake eyes but oh _dear_ this still wasn’t right… oh shit, this was …_ something_. This was indeed something.

A mess.

Amazing.

A disaster.

Utterly incredible.

The fusion felt all of this and every single feeling felt natural, as though they had existed for thousands of years instead of just being created last night. The fusion figured it would be wise to find a way to bring back the demon and angel that made them. A part of them knew an important discussion needed to be had but there was a larger part that desperately wanted to exist as they were. To leave the bookshop and explore London. A few hours weren’t a bad idea. Surely. Was a thirst for knowledge really so bad? The fusion felt a rush of encouragement from all sides of themselves, the two beings that made them in agreement.

Emboldened, the fusion turned to leave the bookshop but not before finding Crowley’s sunglasses on the chair. They didn’t have anything to hide but it felt strange to go without. They positioned the sunglasses at the top of their head. Maybe they looked stylish. Probably not. But it was effort. Yeah! It was an effort!

Delighted at the thought of entering the world with style, the fusion rushed out of the bookshop. They made it to the corner of the street before racing back to lock the shop. _That_ would have been foolish. At the same time, the fusion irritably brushed hair out of their mouth, the long curls flying everywhere from the wind. Digging into the _tiny_ pockets of the dark pants they were wearing (women’s clothing, not surprised in the slightest), they found an elastic band and pulled their hair into a loose ponytail. That’ll do for now.

Moving along the streets, they couldn’t stop staring at everything. It was as though they were experiencing the world for the first time, which they both were and weren’t. The folks of London briskly walking to work, parents guiding their children, couples holding hands, even a few dogs trotting along with their owners. It was all so very _wonderful. _They also came across an abundance of smells. Cigarette smoke blown into their face (not so wonderful), freshly baked bread (their mouth watered), and the sting of steel from construction sites. It was as though they were viewing the world again after an eye surgery! It was –

Wrong. This wasn’t right.

No, it’s _perfect_. This is everything they ever wanted.

But there were pressing matters.

Which could wait for now.

The fusion decided on this firmly. They spotted a florist and was nearly hit by a car crossing the street to smell the orchids on display. Each orchid was sitting in a pot on a white plastic table. They were so pretty, and their scent seemed more powerful than before. Buying them sounded like an excellent idea. The orchid didn’t have a single rough patch on its body so already it had better discipline than Crowley’s unruly plants at the apartment. In fact, it was so pretty that keeping it crammed in the apartment felt cruel, it would serve so much better in the bookshop.

Picking up the pot containing the orchid, the fusion excitedly turned to the cashier –

– Their foot caught the leg of the display table.

The table and its flimsy design collapsed bringing with it the rest of the plants into the Great Orchid Massacre. The fusion clutched their pot – the sole survivor – horrified with the mess they caused. People on the street stared, some of the younger ones struggling not to laugh. But it was the poor florist owner and their assistant the fusion felt the most sorry for. As the humans gasped and bent down trying to salvage the plants, the fusion thought about helping. However, a much louder thought screamed, “Get the fuck out of here!” and so the fusion did, sneaking away with the orchid. Their anxious side unable to argue.

As soon as the fusion snuck back into the bookshop, they leaned against the door and slid to the floor, the orchids close to their chest.

Only 15 minutes awake and already they’d made a mess.

~o0o~

An hour later found a Bentley speeding through the streets of London. Its driver, going by the name Snake-Book (it was the best they could come up with for the moment, bear with them), had Queen turned on at the highest volume and with the windows down so everyone could hear. The overwhelming thrill of being themselves had translated directly into their over-the-top driving, the Bentley going air borne for a few seconds before bouncing on the road after it sprung off a speed bump.

Red lights? Snake-Book didn’t know them. They kept on rolling through, horns blaring angrily at them and the Bentley easily outmatching race cars. Thinking of the song that played last night, Snake-Book skipped through a few songs to land on _Don’t Stop Me Now_.

They considered singing loudly too it but felt a rush of embarrassment suddenly, changing their mind. They were already probably bothering everyone around them, didn’t need to make it worse.

Behind them, they overheard sirens. Looking at the rear-view mirror, they saw police cars rounding a corner. Heading towards them.

Ah.

“Well …shit.”

Panic swept through Snake-Book, slamming their foot on the break immediately. The Bentley screeched and groaned as it came to a halt. Queen continued the song as though everything was going perfectly while Snake-Book fretfully wondered why they were so stupid to drive in such a way to get the wrong kind of attention.

There was only one thing to do. Snake-Book snapped their fingers.

The next thing they knew, the Bentley was in a parking lot right outside St James’ Park. Snake-Book sighed loudly and slouched in their chair with relief. Somehow it felt like they were capable of deciding to do something insane and crazy for the shear joy of it, like bungee jumping. Only for reality to hit them at the exact moment they take the leap, so they fall and bounce screaming the entire way and vowing to never bungee jump again …

…and then return the following month.

Eventually, Snake-Book patted the car’s steering wheel (“You did good.”) and got out to go for a walk around the park. It was a good day, thankfully _not_ raining, and plenty of people were out and about. Snake-Book’s legs seemed to move on their own, pulled along by memory and bringing them to a familiar bench. The soft quacks of the ducks nearby was pleasant, as was the sun beaming down. After such an exciting morning, this was the first time Snake-Book found themselves properly relaxed. 

Curiously peering over the fence, Snake-Book admired the ducks. Those little critters were wiser than most gave credit for. As soon as Snake-Book approached them, the ducks hovered close preparing for the feast. Exactly the same treatment they gave the angel and demon. (7) Feeling a special connection with the ducks, the fusion readied their fingers to snap into existence a snack for them. But they reconsidered when a thought struck them hard.

Had Heaven or Hell picked up the magic they had just used? Or the magic before? What kind of magic had they even used? Was it a miracle from Heaven or a curse from Hell? This had the fusion’s mind reeling with anxious questions, worrying about the consequences of being discovered for simply performing a bit of magic. Did being a fusion mean they were vulnerable to both Holy Water _and_ Hellfire or perhaps immune to both? The thought was both exhilarating and frightening; but they would rather avoid experimenting with the lethal elements than learn the answer. Call them a coward but they would like to live, thank you.

The fusion gasped when a duck nipped at their ankle. Staggering back, they glared at the traitorous duck and stormed away. They would send the divorce papers out next week.

~o0o~

Crowliphale (surely this sounded better right?) couldn’t decide what to eat. There were so many wonderful looking restaurants lined up along the street. Either they had gotten lucky finding this place or the Bentley truly was that clever, knowing exactly where to bring them while also ensuring traffic laws were taken into consideration this time. The Bentley was parked in the sun and locked as the fusion ventured down the alleyway that smelt of cuisines from around the world.

In the restaurants they passed, numerous business people filled up the tables in their work clothes, enjoying the lunch break and wishing for another hour of freedom. It reminded the fusion how convenient it was to no longer report back to Heaven and Hell.

Goodness, if they were still working, that would mean _they_ would have to do double the work to make up for Crowley and Aziraphale’s.

Crowliphale’s face wrinkled at the thought. Absolutely not. Wandering around London – the continent, the planet, the solar system, the _stars _– sounded so much better than interacting with boring stuffy bosses.

And besides, who was to say dumping extra work on them was how Heaven and Hell would react to the fusion’s discovery? After all, despite wanting to avoid the topic, Crowliphale felt fear wash over them again, their memories still feeling the dangerous warmth of Hellfire and the cool bath of Holy Water. Neither Heaven or Hell were exactly that generous and patient with those that fell out of line, and the mere existence of the fusion went against every single line that was ever to be drawn.

Picking a Japanese restaurant, Crowliphale shoved those unpleasant thoughts away once again. This could be discussed later, there were other more pressing matters. Like their name. As they ate a plate of tuna sashimi, Crowliphale decided they hated their name. It sounded, as the Them would say, stupid.

They were so distracted by their food and thoughts (while also still not used to applying their full capabilities as a fusion), that Crowliphale completely missed the presence of a demon.

A demon who had happen to be in London when they felt the fusion’s creation but had to see it before he could believe it.

“What the _fuck?_” said the demon and scampered away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] “Why not just sell it to him and then collect it when he dies?”  
“Crowley!”  
“What? Look at him, it’s not like he’s got that many years left anyway.”
> 
> [2] Such discussions ranging from how much mayonnaise was required for fish and chips, to how much they regret not travelling to Japan again before the Meiji Restoration took place.
> 
> [3] Aziraphale’s expression was completely warranted
> 
> [4] “Does it offend you that much angel?”
> 
> [5] Just in case Crowley tried to get him to twerk which was never going to happen.
> 
> [6] Which wasn’t nearly as cool as Crowley thought it was.
> 
> [7] Ask anyone and they’d tell you ducks do that for everyone.


	2. Part 2

_ Caz _.

It felt right. Not a mouthful, didn’t sound silly and no humans gave them a funny look when spoken aloud.

With the name sorted, Caz debated other aspects of their newly founded identity. They strolled into clothing shops featuring the latest fashion for men and women, finding pieces they liked and others they were horrified with. Right now, they were sorting through the accessories and complimenting the design of a handbag shaped to look like an old book. After an hour, they still didn’t see why the clothes were separated by gender (another funny human thing they supposed) but they liked the red beret hat from the women’s section and the long blue scarf from the men’s. They collected both and walked out of the store forgetting to pay (too focused on the joy of wearing their new items), miraculously (8) without being caught. The scarf wrapped around their neck nicely, and the sunglasses sat with the beret on their head like a cherry on top of a cake.(9)

Noticing a few people staring, Caz supposed that they must look a tad mental in their mismatching styles and colours, but they liked it. They appreciated both gendered clothing and didn’t want to pick one side. Which is coincidentally exactly where they landed in terms of pronouns. Had nothing against adopting the identity of a woman or man if the time came but for now, _they_ were pleased what they had.

~o0o~

Caz decided they liked the evening very much. They had liked it consistently throughout human history as well. Just enough daylight that the bustle of daytime and night mixed together like a river meeting the sea. A transition period that showed off much of the Almighty’s greatness in the creation of time and change. There was a different _feel_ to the world and Caz imagined that this is was what it felt like to grow old and settle into retirement if they had the ability.

Based off observation, retirement was peaceful. At least, the old folk waiting at the bus stop Caz passed by seemed peaceful. Most of them anyway. All were open and chatty, offering extra biscuits to Caz (which they gladly accepted). However, one of them began complaining about an injury of their big toe to which all of their friends pleaded him _not_ to bring up that topic again.

“I can bring it up as much as I want,” the old man grumbled. Then clarified to Caz, “Old work accident. That’s what you get for budget cuts. Toe hasn’t been the same since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Caz answered.

When the bus rolled round and collected the old folk, Caz summoned magic. They used a miracle to heal the toe back to its original unaltered and pain-free state. It was a small thing, but Caz felt brighter for it, and surely the man – and especially his friends who would no longer have to hear his complaints – would be happy.

Performing miracles, whether large or small, usually always brought a sense of fulfillment. As though they were proving their worth – or rather, Aziraphale was proving _his _worth so that the next time he met with the Archangels, he wouldn’t feel so, well, useless.

And – _oh_.

Caz swore under their breath when they realised, they had used magic _again_. Without any consideration or thought. It felt as natural as blinking. At least this time Caz was certain the magic came from Heaven, therefore the magic for the Bentley must have come from Hell… _maybe_. It was all so confusing, but Caz couldn’t deny, now that there was nothing around to distract them, that they were also intrigued.

What would happen if they performed a miracle and a curse at the same time? Surely, it wouldn’t be a good thing…

But they could give it a try…

It was a foolish idea – after all, who knows what could happen? Something disastrous could occur.

But Caz carried so many questions and no one could offer them answers except their own investigations. There was pressure where their heart would be if they were a human as the pain of Crowley’s Fall hit them. They knew what happened when too many questions were asked …

Caz buried their face into the scarf and further into their thoughts. Their day had started off so delightful, but reality and its consequences had arrived an hour earlier than scheduled. They had tried to ignore it, but their curiosity couldn’t be quelled. They needed to know what being a fusion of an angel and demon really meant.

Before fear could put forward another debate, Caz held up both hands and snapped their fingers, summoning both kinds of magic.

Caz choked. It felt like slamming into a wall. Their entire body froze. Their muscles tensed. Energy ripped violently through them. Two conflicting powers clashing. Instead of moving in the direction Caz had imagined, it burst like a broken dam. All of this was felt slowly. As though years passed. But it all happened in less than a second. Magic violently tumbled out of the fusion. Sparks burst. As Caz collapsed to the ground, they heard glass shattering, one after the other. Their head felt heavy, but they blearily glanced up to see all the streetlights were destroyed, their broken remains on the ground.

Every home they could see had lost the glass in their windows and doors and cars too. All splintered into thousands of pieces. Distantly, they heard the residents in the homes exclaim at the sudden explosion of destruction. It wasn’t just the glass, Caz realised. It looked like a tornado had swept through. Caz groaned. Their body felt like it was burning, as though infected from the tainted magic. It fizzled out gradually, like the final raindrops falling slowly out of a drain. Caz pressed a hand to their aching head, the sunglasses slipping from their position and hitting the road.

That was – Oh. Oh _no_.

Caz shivered as they noticed their hand. Their _hand_… it wasn’t covered in skin but scales. Black scales that boiled red around their palm. Panicking, the fusion tugged up their sleeves to see the scales climbing up their arm. Oh no, no, no. What was this? What was – _No!_

Suddenly, they couldn’t just see their usual vision but the houses behind them too. And then the street at a different angle, and a bush at another. With every blink, more and more of the world around them was seen and absorbed as eyes of various sizes but all sharing the same blue bloomed across their body. One of them opened close to the sunglasses, above a knee, and they saw it… their hazel eye had turned into a snake’s, poisonous yellow and glaring.

Shit. _Shit. Shit! _They need to get out of here before any human saw them.

They went to snap again but halted. Absolutely not. Not again. Caz scrambled to their feet, feeling the scales crawling further along his body, melding with the hundreds of blinking and staring eyes.

Even in their worried state, a part of them still remember to collect the sunglasses. It was a foolish thing to do and if they had any less luck, they would have been seen. Luckily, they stumbled into an isolated alleyway just as wings forcefully sprouted from their back. Caz gritted their teeth, frightened but still amazed at the four grey wings they had gained. Almost silver in the rays of sun. Pretty but _this was the worst time to show up!_

Caz crashed against the wall, pressing their forehead against the cool brick and exhaling heavily. Squeezing their – er – eyes – the hundreds of them – they forced all of their energy into squeezing the elements of their muddled true form back into the mortal shell. _Please, enough, stop, go back, not now, go back, back, **stop**._

And gradually, Caz felt their body return to normal. An open book closed and placed back in the bookshelf. When it was all over, Caz released a wrecked wet gasp and slid to the floor. That …that had _not_ been good.

What a stupid _foolish_ fusion they are. They had no excuse; they _knew_ bad things happened when questions were blindly asked. So, _so_, incredibly stupid they were. A sickness brewed inside, a mixture of shame and fury with themselves. As punishment they decided, that was enough. They had experienced their fun.

Time to return to two beings again.

…Er …however one was meant to do that.

~o0o~

Caz played with a lock of hair as they fought themselves to hurry up and knock on Madame Tracy’s apartment door already. She was the best (and only) person they could turn to for help. Disturbing the crazy resident in the apartment across was the last thing the fusion wanted to do; they could already hear the Sargent asking about their nipples (10). Even that witch and her technologically challenged boyfriend were too far out of reach for Caz at the moment. Adam and the Them didn’t need something like this bothering them on a fine day when they were only kids. Plus, they were all too far away.

Madame Tracy was the closest and she was a kind lady, if it a bit strange. But then again, so was Caz so it all balanced out in the end. It was also due to the events of Armageddon that the angel in Caz felt like Madame Tracy was someone they could trust. If she couldn’t solve their problem, at the very least she’d be good emotional support.

Gulping, Caz politely knocked the door. As they waited, they adjusted the beret and untangled the scarf, so it was hanging off them like long octopus limbs. They realised sharply Madame Tracy would likely have no clue who she was looking at and therefore would require a calm and carefully worded explanation.

Madame Tracy opened the door.

“OhthankgoodnessyouansweredI’minsomuchtrouble,Idon’tknowwhattodoit’smeAziraphaleandCrowleyIguess.SupWon’tyoupleaselendusanearandhelpus?”

Caz finally stopped. They had royally fucked that up.

Madame Tracy thankfully kept her smile intact (but undoubtedly wondering what she had smoked this morning) and said, “Okay. Why don’t you …come in and start from the beginning? Not _that_ far in the beginning though.”

~o0o~

Madame Tracy’s apartment looked different from what Caz remembered, when Aziraphale had possessed her. It was in the process of packing, most of the furniture wrapped in plastic and a bunch of boxes everywhere. Madame Tracy happily trilled about her and Mister Shadwell moving in together into a cute little cottage next week; Caz certainly picked the perfect time to hop in for spot of tea. Otherwise they would have missed the brownies she had baked.

“Oh no, not those ones dear. Those are special. _These_ ones are for you.”

Caz nibbled on the brownie as Madame Tracy seated herself opposite them. As the water boiled for their tea, Caz tried their best to explain what exactly they were. Madame Tracy took the information in stride.

Once their tea was poured and steaming beautifully, and Madame Tracy had her first gulp, she put on her serious face and asked, “Now. I understand who you are, but I still don’t quite know what the problem is.”

“I … this is a lovely brownie, by the way. You must give me the recipe.”

“Oh thank you! But I won’t let you avoid the topic that easily.”

“Ah,” Caz mumbled awkwardly. “Well… _fuck it,_” he whispered then said firmly, “I’m trying to split apart. Go back to being Crowley and Aziraphale again.”

Madame Tracy blinked in surprise. “Oh? You don’t want a few more hours?”

“_No_…not after the mess I made,” Caz mumbled, feeling ashamed again. Mixing a miracle and curse together, stupid, _stupid_ fusion! “This is a big problem and they need to talk about it, together.”

“But they are together.”

“Not like this! Together as in face-to-face.”

Madame Tracy’s pencil drawn eyebrows rose as though she was silently judging them. “If you say so.”

“I _do_,” Caz insisted, then furiously bit into their brownie. “I just need to figure out how.”

“And that’s where I come in!”

“Yes, I suppose.”

As Madame Tracy thought about it, she hummed and clicked her tongue. Caz wondered why she needed to do that. Finally, she landed on something. “How did all …” she waved her hands in a circular motion at Caz. “…_this_ happen?”

Ah, starting from the beginning was a wise way to solve this. Caz followed along. They frowned, thinking about the night before. “They were drinking together and then they began to dance.”

“How lovely,” Madame Tracy sighed.

Caz smiled widely. “Yes. Crowley was trying to flirt with Aziraphale. Get all romantic. It worked.”

There was a pause as Caz’s words and their meaning settled. Then he gasped and exclaimed, “It _worked!_ It actually worked! That means I’m …” there was a shine in their eyes, an intense level of relief and affection overwhelming their face.

Madame Tracy watched with intrigue but felt a little embarrassed. “Would you like me to leave? I can give you a room?” she pointed to her special pink room.

Caz just barely fell out of their ecstatic rush to answer her. “I’m …I’m fine. We’re fine. _They’re_ fine. I just need… _this_ must be why.”

“Why what?”

“Why I exist!” Caz said triumphantly, a hand on their chest. “Angels, demons, they – they don’t fuse. Not with each other. It’s not even possible. At least, that’s what I thought. Angels of course can fuse together. Though the Archangels would never with a Principality. And the demons, oh. All the time otherwise Hell would never be able to contain all of them. But an angel and demon,_ together_? We should be exploding right now!”

“I’d rather you not,” Madame Tracy said.

Caz grinned. “I won’t. We can’t. It’s …an angel and demon fusion, it shouldn’t possible because – because they’re opposites. They’re on different sides but …”

Madame Tracy leaned forward. “But?”

“We’re on _our_ side.”

Maybe it was because they were a celestial being, but Madame Tracy couldn’t think of anyone else she had ever seen look as happy as they did. It was though they had reinvented happiness. It made her feel like nothing in the world could match a greater beauty. Goodness, interacting with celestial beings sure is an odd experience _but_, she had to admit, she’d met odder clients back in her business days. She reached across and patted Caz’s hand gently. “That’s all very well dear. Do you still want help – erm – splitting apart?”

Far more certain now, Caz nodded. “Yes. They do need to talk. I guess something needs to disrupt this …_connection_ that keeps me together.”

“Like a disagreement?”

Caz’s eyes sparkled. “_Yes_! Something like that.”

Madame Tracy clicked her tongue (_why _did she do that? Caz wondered again) as she thought of her old clients and how she got to know them. Name, age, birthday, favourite and least favourite colour and food. The food question always opened doors to interesting circumstances. Ah! Madame Tracy knew what to ask, she knew of something that tended to divide her clients.

“Do you like mint chocolate ice cream?” she asked innocently. “It’s my favourite.”

Caz stared at her in puzzlement. “I… yes – _no_.” They winced at their own interruption. Placing down their cup of tea, they frowned deeply and glanced at Madame Tracy.

“Yes,” Caz answered. “It’s my favourite too – _No!_ It’s a terrible flavour!” The fusion flinched again, and Madame Tracy watched eagerly, pleased with herself. Caz started, “No, I’m certain. Mint chocolate is an abomination, I wouldn’t be surprised if a demon made it – oh, I did make it. I was thinking of you when I did – _YOU –!_”

Madame Tracy threw herself back into her chair as the fusion in front of her suddenly glowed brightly and split. Two figures were shoved out on both sides, landing hard on the floor. The light dimmed. Madame Tracy pressed her lips together, then slowly stood up to inspect the angel and demon. Both were groaning. “And how are you two doing?” she asked kindly.

Crowley squinted, as though waking up from a deep sleep. “Yeah, fine,” he grunted.

Aziraphale sat up in a hurry, his white hair frazzled. “You –!” he spluttered furiously. “_You_ made mint chocolate? How could you?!”

“I made it _just_ for you, angel,” Crowley said with a sharp grin. “Thought you liked sweets?”

All Aziraphale could do was gape at him in disbelief. The _betrayal!_ Gradually, grumpiness took over and the angel got to his feet with a huff. He flashed Madame Tracy a pleasant glowing smile and said, “Thank you for your help. Tea tomorrow?”

“Sounds lovely,” Madame Tracy replied.

With a nod, Azirphale bid Madame Tracy a good day and strolled out of the apartment, not even looking back to see if Crowley was following him. Of course, he was.

“Come _on_, angel. You can’t be that mad at me.”

The door shut. Madame Tracy sipped her tea mildly as she heard the two outside exclaim at each other.

“We _fused!_”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“Angel, it was _amazing_! We have to do it again!”

“I’m _not_ talking to you. After what you did –”

“– and then we fused and shit, the last time I felt that way was Before. We _have_ to fuse again.”

“Let’s …let’s not be too hasty.”

“No, _let’s_!”

They kept going back and forth until they had walked too far to be heard.

…and it was just Madame Tracy left with her belongings. “That was fun,” she said to herself.

~o0o~

For any onlooker, there was silence between Crowley and Aziraphale as they walked together through St James’ park. Crowley twirled the blue scarf like a walking cane, while Aziraphale choked the beret in his nervous grip. Taking a peek into their thought space, it was anything but silent. Satan on one of his worst days would come off as quieter.

Crowley was lost in the excitement of what a fusion meant for them, the symbol of their relationship. The result of thousands of years of friendly visits, daring rescues and numerous nights dining and getting drunk. How they felt for each other was strong enough to break through the barriers of impossibility. There was no way in Heaven or Hell was he going to lose the courage to take further steps in approaching romance now.

Aziraphale meanwhile was going against his promise not to swear like he had during Armageddon. He was terrified of what would happen if Heaven or Hell came crashing through the doors of the peace he and Crowley built in the aftermath of their trails. Just because no one had physically been there to witness their fusion face to face, did not mean Caz’s presence had not been felt. Or that the miracle/curse/magic mutation they committed wasn’t picked up.

_ There is no way we’re fusing again _, Aziraphale decided.

_ We are absolutely fusing again _, Crowley vowed with a grin.

Regardless, despite Caz’s claims, neither of them was having a proper discussion like they should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Due to the messed up time zones, AO3 thought I had published this fic a day ago. Which sent it alll the way back and that ...that wasn't fun XD it sucks not living in the northern hemisphere sometimes. I was going back and forth on deciding whether this should be one or two chapters so I guess I finally decided. Thanks!
> 
> [8] wink
> 
> [9] A cake sounded nice actually.
> 
> [10] If the audience wishes to know, the author might consider telling but Caz informed me hastily that it is no one’s business (its more than 2 for sure)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, thanks so much for reading. This is my first contribution to Good Omens and it's weird I know but the idea wouldn't leave me alone and I had to write it. I'm not even certain it's good lol I just had to write it.
> 
> I have no clue if I’ll write any more on this but at least this one-shot is out. Writing Caz – a fusion to embody both Crowley and Aziraphale while being their own person – was damn hard.
> 
> [1] “Why not just sell it to him and then collect it when he dies?”  
“Crowley!”  
“What? Look at him, it’s not like he’s got that many years left anyway.”
> 
> [2] Such discussions ranging from how much mayonnaise was required for fish and chips, to how much they regret not travelling to Japan again before the Meiji Restoration took place.
> 
> [3] Aziraphale’s expression was completely warranted
> 
> [4] “Does it offend you that much angel?”
> 
> [5] Just in case Crowley tried to get him to twerk which was never going to happen.
> 
> [6] Which wasn’t nearly as cool as Crowley thought it was.
> 
> [7] Ask anyone and they’d tell you ducks do that for everyone.


End file.
